


Teach You How

by sixtysevenlmpala



Series: Teach You How [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexual Fantasy, Teaching, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-13
Updated: 2013-06-13
Packaged: 2017-12-14 21:18:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/841498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sixtysevenlmpala/pseuds/sixtysevenlmpala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the anonymous prompt: "Dean encouraging Sam to dirty talk or like teaching him how?"<br/>“Jesus <i>fuck</i> how do you—how d’you <i>say</i> all that stuff,” then, “Wish I could learn t-to do that, wanna drive you crazy like you do to me, oh fuck.” So, Dean's trying.<br/>Originally posted on <a href="http://sixtysevenlmpala.tumblr.com/post/51563033299/i-cant-do-it-dean-sighs-out-an-exasperated">tumblr</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Teach You How

“I can’t do it.”

Dean sighs out an exasperated chuckle into Sam’s neck, planting two hands either side of Sam’s head on the mattress and pushing himself up to look into Sam’s face. “You’re the one who said you wanted to learn how. So. We’re teachin’ you how.”

“Yeah, but…” Sam trails off, and his cheeks flush adorably. “It just… it doesn’t come naturally to me. Not like it does to you. I can’t just… _say_ that kinda stuff.”

Dean’s fingers idly trace the outline of Sam’s tattoo as he straddles his hips, rocks his own down just a little so that their cocks brush and Sam gasps quietly. That’s exactly what Sam is when they’re in bed: quiet. Well, he’s _loud_ sometimes, when he gets close and his hips get all erratic and jerky where they’re thrusting into Dean, then he’s all panting and strangled groans caught in his throat. But that’s only when he really loses it; most of the time he holds it all back, and that includes the words that he keeps from slipping from his lips.

Dean’s the exact opposite; when he’s turned-on and in the mood – which, when he’s with Sam, is practically all the time, let’s be real – he loses all his inhibitions about what he’s saying, tells Sam plain and simple how he wants to be fucked, tells him how good his cock feels, how he loves that he’s so big, loves him stretching him out, and so on until they both come all over themselves.

It’s a pretty decent system, but the night before this one, Sam mumbled in the throes of pre-orgasm pleasure something along the lines of, “Jesus _fuck_ how do you—how d’you _say_ all that stuff,” then, “Wish I could learn t-to do that, wanna drive you crazy like you do to me, oh fuck.”

So, Dean’s trying.

“Sammy, c’mon, what’s so hard? Just… tell me what you’re thinkin’.”

Sam flushes a little harder and turns his head on the pillow, eyes slipping closed to avoid Dean’s gaze. “Don’t know how,” he mutters, sounding frustrated, and Dean rolls his eyes and then smirks.

“Would it help if I relaxed you?” he asks, and Sam slits his eyes open and frowns, confused, but his eyes clear pretty quickly as Dean crawls down his body, letting his mouth trail over the skin in a path with an obvious destination. Dean winks up at him and flicks his tongue out to trace the hard, defined muscles of Sam’s stomach, licking into every ridge and grinning when they twitch under his mouth.

“God,” Sam chokes out, “that’s not _relaxing_ , asshole,” shoving kind of unceremoniously at Dean’s head, pushing him closer to where he wants him. “ _Dean_ ,” he whines.

“What?” Dean asks innocently, moving to lick along the ridges of Sam’s hip bones, deliberately avoiding his cock. “Tell me what you want.”

“Your mouth,” Sam growls, and Dean just raises an eyebrow, because they both know that’s not enough. Sam drops his head back against the pillow with a pitiful groan, hips hitching upwards to no avail as Dean carries on teasing him, sucking maddening little bruises into his belly and his hips and his inner thighs, ignoring the fact that his cock is hard and heavy on his stomach. “Jesus, Dean.”

“ _Tell_ me,” Dean insists.

“Suck me,” Sam mutters, lifting his head to stare down at him. He bites his lip, then blurts, “Want you to suck me. Wanna feel your lips all… tight around me, and—fuck. C’mon.”

Dean presses a quick smile into Sam’s thigh and drags his lips up to Sam’s cock, mouthing lazily up the side of the shaft, not so much sucking as just getting him all wet and sensitive, mapping out the ridges and the veins of his cock with his tongue.

“Dean—“ Sam moans, bucking his hips, and Dean just shoots him an expectant look as he carries on, holds his gaze until Sam curses and looks away, knowing he won’t get what he wants unless he gives Dean more. “I-I can’t—“

“Just tell me what you want,” Dean murmurs soothingly, a reassuring hand on Sam’s hip, and Sam puffs out his cheeks. “If you say it, you can have it, Sammy,” Dean adds, and Sam whimpers.

“Jesus,” he gasps out, “wanna—wanna fuck your mouth. Wanna f-feel you, uh. Feel you take me as far as you can and then I wanna m-make you take more, hold you still an’ fuck up into you ‘til I hit the back of your throat, _fuck_ , I just. I love your mouth, Dean; your mouth drives me fucking insane.” Dean stares at him, mouth half-open, and Sam helplessly strokes a thumb across his brother’s bottom lip. “Oh _shit_ , y-yeah, like that,” Sam pants as Dean leans down and sucks him into his mouth, lips a tight seal around his cock.

If he could, Dean would be smirking up at him, but Sam’s cock is wide enough for it to burn a little at the corners of his mouth when his lips are stretched around it, so there’s no chance of him managing that. Instead, he waggles his eyebrows kind of ridiculously at Sam, which makes him laugh, hand running through Dean’s hair. He adds a little pressure at the back of Dean’s neck, and Dean gives the tiniest nod, lets him push him further down onto his cock.

“Shit,” Sam moans, and Dean groans an agreement, choking a little around the sudden intrusion, one hand clenching into a fist as he fights his gag relex.

His throat muscles flutter around Sam’s cock, and that just makes Sam’s hips twitch more; he pulls out only to slam back in, hips arching off the bed as he fucks into Dean’s mouth, just like he said, just like Dean promised. There’s no point denying it – Sam’s got a ridiculously, proportionally huge cock, and when he uses Dean’s mouth like this, it’s like all Dean can taste and feel and focus on is Sammy. He’s just about losing himself in the feel of it when he registers that Sam’s talking again, and he flicks shocked eyes back up to his brother, one hand stroking encouragingly at Sam’s thigh.

“God, you’re so…” Sam mumbles, head tossing on the pillow as he fucks Dean’s mouth. “S’like you’re made for it. Never told you how much I love your mouth, but I do – your fucking _lips_ , Dean, th-they’re perfect and sometimes I can’t help staring and thinkin’ how much I need them on me. Fuck,” he gasps, with a particularly hard thrust that makes Dean moan a little, “you take it so well, can’t believe it, so g-good for me – turns me on so fucking much, how much you’re into this,” and Dean feels his own cheeks flush a little.

The pressure of Sam’s hand on the back of his head is insistent but not too hard – Dean knows he’d never actually put all the force into it that he could – so Dean pulls off fairly easily, looks up at him with swollen lips and heavy breaths. “Jesus Christ, Sammy.”

Sam bites his lip. “I—sorry. I got carried away,” he breathes, “was that bad?” and Dean shakes his head.

“S’fucking hot, you idiot,” he grins, lowering his head to brush his lips over the head of his cock. “So, my mouth, huh?” he asks casually, and Sam nods, dumb and eager. “Tell me what else you think about,” Dean husks, practically mouthing the words against Sam’s dick, and Sam tips his head back on a moan.

“Are you, uh, _fuck_. Are you sure?” Sam asks warily.

“Very,” Dean answers simply, and promptly wraps his lips back around Sam’s cock, sinking down and hollowing his cheeks, grabbing Sam’s hand and placing it pointedly on the back of his head.

“Oh God,” Sam groans, arching up into Dean’s mouth, “I-I think about, uh. A lot of stuff, I. I think about your ass, about fucking you – all the time, pretty much,” he admits with a breathless laugh, Dean raising an eyebrow at him. “Like, w-when – _fuck_ – when we’re on a case, and you look all pretty and neat in a suit, I just spend all my time thinkin’ about how I wanna rip it off you.”

Dean moans in disbelief around Sam’s cock, and when he looks up at Sam’s face, Sam looks as surprised as he does at the words that are coming from his mouth. Dean’s never heard Sam say anything like this before, and it’s kind of ridiculously hot, however fumbling he is about it. Sam’s thrusts are quicker and more brutal now, the bitterness of pre-come bursting out on the back of Dean’s tongue, and he just keeps talking.

“And—and the other day, when we were in that restaurant, we were, uh. You were questioning the waiter, and I just… couldn’t stop watchin’ you, couldn’t stop thinkin’ about how I wanted to drag you off to the bathroom and fuck you right then and there, make you scream so l-loud people know exactly what's goin' on.”

 Sam’s babbling like he’s never gonna stop, and Dean whimpers, grinding his own cock into the bedding beneath him.

“Just—fuck you quick, I’d’ve just shoved your pants outta the way, m-made you keep even the jacket on, and you’d’ve just taken it—“

He cuts himself off with a moan, and Dean sinks his fingernails into the meat of Sam’s thigh as he ruts his cock more frantically against the mattress. Jesus. Jesus Christ, he doesn’t know what he’s unleashed, here, but fuck if it isn’t the hottest thing he’s ever heard.

Sam writhes a little on the bed and gasps, “An’ then when we were done you… fuck, you would’a looked a mess, all sweaty and f-fucked-out. Clothes all wrinkled and your hair’d be fucked to hell s-so that when we walked out, when we walked out everyone would _know_ you just _took my_ _cock_ —“ and with no warning whatsoever, his hips rise up off the bed, he cries out raggedly and comes into Dean’s mouth, shooting down his throat.

Dean makes a surprised noise but swallows as much as he can, licking up the drops he lets dribble down Sam’s cock. Once Sam comes down, Dean chuckles hoarsely and murmurs, “Got quite a mouth on you, Sammy. Who’d’a thought?”

“Shut up,” Sam mumbles breathlessly, chest heaving.

Dean grins and bites gently at Sam’s thigh before crawling up his body so they’re face to face. “It was hot,” he tells him with authority. “You’re hot. Especially when you _talk_ like that, Christ.”

Sam rolls his eyes, cheeks flushed pink, and then asks suddenly, “Hey, d’you need—“ as he reaches a hand down between them.

Dean shifts his hips away and replies sheepishly, “I, uh. I kinda already did.”

Sam raises an eyebrow and laughs a little, so Dean punches him in the arm. “Dude, shut up. You hear you talkin’ and try not to come all over yourself.”

Sam wrinkles his nose a little, frowning at his brother, but he doesn’t bother pointing out how weird that would be. “So,” he sighs, biting his lip, “how’d I do?”

Dean pretends to consider. “Good,” he concedes eventually, leaning in to kiss at Sam’s neck, “but, ah, definitely more practice needed.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, feel free to leave a comment/kudos if you liked!


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